My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 48

“You wrote this sentence three different ways,” he said, “And still managed to make it wrong.”

He leaned slightly closer as he spoke. I swallowed. Raphael’s gaze lifted slowly from the page to my face.

“You’re a senior in computer science, correct?”

I nodded once, “Yes.”

His eyebrow lifted a little, “Then explain something to me,” he raised the paper between two fingers and took another step closer. My back brushed the edge of the desk.

There’s no space left!

My brain screamed at me but I couldn't get a single word out.

He tapped the chart with the red pen, “How does someone capable of building this model…” the pen tapped the numbers again, “…write like this?”

My throat tightened, words crowded my head but none of them came out right. Raphael watched my silence then he stepped closer. His height blocked the light from the window behind him, his shadow fell over the desk. Over me.

Men did that.

They used their size and strength like a weapon, as if space belonged to them like the rest of us were supposed to shrink.

I hated it.

God, I hated it.

But my body didn’t move, it never did.

The office suddenly felt smaller, much smaller.

“The numbers are the only reason I didn’t throw this away,” he said quietly, “Because the writing certainly isn’t.”

My heart began beating faster, the sound loud inside my ears. Raphael leaned down slightly, closing the space between us until I could feel the heat of his body. Our faces were only inches apart now. His eyes moved slowly across my face, studying every reaction like he had all the time in the world.

Waiting.

Watching.

Something in my chest snapped tight.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I lifted my hand and pressed it against his chest. The fabric of his suit was smooth under my palm, but the muscle beneath it felt solid as stone. I pushed him back just enough to break the space between us.

A clear message.

You don’t get to stand this close.

Raphael moved back easily, like the pressure meant nothing to him. His gaze dropped to my hand where it rested against his chest. For a second he simply looked at it.

Then his eyes lifted back to my face.

A slow, amused smile spread across his mouth, it was not the calm, professional expression he had been wearing behind the desk.

This one looked familiar.

“Get out.”

──━⊰ 𓆙 ⊱━──

The door to my room closed softly behind me as Jules slipped inside. She was already wearing pajamas, with a bag of chips crinkled in her hand.

She climbed onto the bed and sat cross-legged beside me, immediately grabbing the report.

Her eyes widened, “Whoa,” she flipped the page, “Did someone attack this with a marker?”

I leaned back against the headboard and rubbed my face with both hands, “It’s bad.”

Jules slid off the bed without a word and walked to my desk, pulling my chair out like she had done this a hundred times before.

Which she had.

“Laptop,” she said.

I pushed it toward her.

The document opened on the screen. Red notes from Raphael’s pen were scribbled across the printed pages beside it. Jules leaned forward, chewing on a chip while she read the sentences slowly.

Her lips moved slightly as she sounded out the words.

I grabbed my phone and took a photo of the report page. The text scanner app pulled the sentences into digital text, then began reading them through my earbuds.